


Not So Normal, Actually

by Ductie



Series: Just Me, My Neighbor and Our Magic Alien Baby [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Good Parent Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, How Do I Tag, Humor, I Tried, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29620263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ductie/pseuds/Ductie
Summary: Cobb Vanth's upstairs neighbor is weird, loud, and maybe hiding a secret child, but Cobb figures that's more than enough.Turns out this theory was short a magical alien.AKA a modern AU in which Grogu is still an alien, and he is determined to cause as much trouble as possible while Cobb regrets getting involved.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Series: Just Me, My Neighbor and Our Magic Alien Baby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176311
Comments: 30
Kudos: 88





	1. Not So Normal, Actually

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this idea, wrote and posted it all in like three days. This is my first fic on ao3 AND my first Star Wars/Mando fic so I am NERVOUS y'all.  
> But I hope you enjoy reading this goofy little fic as much as I enjoy writing it.

Cobb liked Din, generally speaking. He’d moved in right above Cobb just a couple months ago, and Cobb had made it a bit of a personal mission to try and get to know his new (hot) neighbor a bit better.

It helped that their work schedules lined up so nicely; Cobb worked as an officer at their local station, and Din had picked up a cashier job at a nearby supermarket. He said he was just until he found something else, and Cobb was certainly rooting for the guy to get a better job buuuut… well he wasn’t complaining that Din’s current hours let them ride the elevator together everyday.

It helped even more that Din seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. He’d seemed a bit standoffish at first, sure, but once Cobb got to know him a bit better, he realized there was, well, an actual person under those relenting scowls and distant stares. And then he’d learned that person was nice and kind and would listen to Cobb like his life depended on every word and actually had a bit of a dry, occasionally dark sense of humor when Cobb really dug deep and- well Cobb was glad he decided to get to know him better.

Also he was hot, had Cobb mentioned that yet?

But, good personality and good looks aside, the guy was also fucking weird. In hindsight, standoffish might have been a bit of an understatement. Din seemed absolutely committed to not letting Cobb know anything about him. His age, where he was from, where he’d worked before, what his family was like, hell Cobb hadn’t even learned the guy’s last name until he’d offered to pick up some mail for him, and that revelation had apparently been mortifying for the guy. If he remembered correctly, it consisted of Cobb greeting Din, mail in hand, with a smooth,  
“Djarin, is it?”

Then Din had stared at him for a solid minute of absolute silence, and Cobb had to awkwardly fumble on with, “Uh, like Dee-jarin. Or is the D silent? I wasn’t-” and then Din had slammed the door in his face which, sure, maybe his pronunciation wasn’t great, but it hardly warranted almost getting his nose broken by a door! He’d also left without taking his mail, and blatantly refused to open up. (“I know you’re in there, Din!”) Which meant Cobb kind of just had to… temporarily steal his mail to give it to him the next day.

Oh and the child thing, don’t even get Cobb started on that!

Din had been adamant that he lived on his own when he’d first moved in, but after a month or so of him routinely taking diapers and mashed peas as part of his groceries, Cobb wasn’t entirely sure. Unless he was using the diapers for himself of course, but somehow Cobb doubted that. Instead he’d asked Din about it one day while he was standing outside his apartment, arms full with a haul of distinctly baby-filled groceries.

“What? No, of course not. These are… damaged goods. From the store, they make us throw away whatevers a bit scratched up so I’ve been taking some home so I can… donate them.” Din had scrambled to tell him, which yeah, that wasn’t the worst excuse Cobb had ever heard, except Din was practically sweating the pacific ocean across from him and all of the “damaged goods” in his hands looked in mint condition. Still, Cobb was willing to let it drop for the time being, until-

“Batu!” a small voice distinctly babbled from behind the door. Din’s foot was half inside, propping the door open enough to let Cobb hear whatever was back there, but without giving him a good view. Still, his eyes widened.

“Wha-”

“Cat!” Din said quickly, and suddenly he had disappeared into his apartment and the door was slamming shut in Cobb’s face, again.

And of course, there were the noises. Din, bless his heart, was quite possibly the worst upstairs-neighbor Cobb could’ve asked for. Cobb was routinely woken up by some strange bump or bang from above, and when he asked Din about it all he got was a string of tired apologies and lame excuses, none of which made any sense and none of which involved the aforementioned cat that totally existed.

So yeah, weird neighbor that refused to give away any personal information, never opened his door more than a crack, had a secret child and was constantly making frightfully loud noises and Cobb was a bit… concerned.

Now, he didn’t think Din was a bad person or anything! Again, the guy seemed great and he’d hate to see all that flirting go to waste (although sometimes it felt like it was anyway) but having a secret kid that never left the house and weird noises in the middle of the night didn’t paint the greatest picture for Din and well… Cobb was just a bit worried.

It was after a particularly alarming crash he decided he needed to check things out.

The bang itself wasn’t all that loud, but then Cobb swore he heard the distinct shattering of glass and that was the disturbing part. He headed to the elevator and went up to Din’s floor, just above him. Cobb had never been inside Din’s apartment before, but he’d accompanied him to his door plenty of times, so it wasn’t hard to find. He knocked on it then, but got nothing in response. 

“Din?” He asked nervously, and that time he thought he heard some shuffling, but he couldn’t be certain. Cobb bit his lip, trying to figure out what to do next. He didn’t want to just barge in, he knew how Din liked his privacy after all, but at the same time he was worried he could’ve been injured and…

Cobb made up his mind and started to carefully push open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. “Alright, I’m coming iiii-” he started to give Din a bit of a warning, but his voice trailed off at what he found in front of him.

Din stood in the middle of his living room, and a fallen lamp lay discarded at his feet, glass from the bulb shot out in all directions. In his arms was a child, if you could even call it that. Its floppy ears stuck out from its head like a cow’s, and its eyes were impossibly big, looking at Cobb with clear surprise. Its skin was wrinkly, like it didn’t fit it quite right, and, worst of all, it was very, very green. And not to mention, because all of that was somehow not enough, right above their heads floated half a dozen wooden blocks.

Din and the child in his arms both turned to him, and as they did the blocks suddenly dropped from the air, one of them hitting Din on the head, who cringed at the impact.

Cobb took a step back, and Din took one forward, holding a hand out to Cobb like he was trying to calm a wild animal. Under normal circumstances, Cobb might’ve been a bit offended, but all things considered he couldn’t help but agree with Din’s assessment.

That is, until Din was pointing a gun at him.

Apparently, while Cobb’s brain stuttered to comprehend what was happening in front of him (those blocks had been floating, right?? Right???) Din had finished crossing the room, had procured a gun from somewhere, and was pointing it AT COBB.

“Just step inside, Cobb,” Din said, locking eyes with him with steely determination. “I promise I can explain but I need you to get inside and close the door.” And well, Din wasn’t often a cheery or joking person, but Cobb had never heard his voice so deadly serious.

Cobb took another, very slow step back, and noticed as Din’s hand gripped tighter around the pistol, but he made no move to shoot.

“Cobb I can give you answers just please, we can talk inside,” Din pressed.

And Cobb looked down at the gun in his right hand and the… child in his left, and then back up to Din. And then something in his brain clicked and it was his turn to slam that goddamn door.

Cobb ran. He ran down the hall and to the elevator, his hand reflexively slamming into the button before he realized that was stupid and he wasn’t going to just stand around WAITING FOR THE ELEVATOR while Din’s footsteps slammed after him. So instead he turned to the stairs, tearing down them as quickly as he could without just tumbling down head over heels. At some point he noticed maybe Din was called his name but he did. Not. Care. Instead he made it to his apartment, yanked open the door just to slam it shut again and hurriedly slide the bolts in place.

Moments later, someone knocked. Or, well maybe knocked was a generous term. It really sounded like someone was trying to slam down his door, and it was not easy to ignore, as much as Cobb would have loved to.

“What?!” Cobb demanded after a moment, kicking the door as if it was the problem. The “knocking” stopped suddenly.

“Listen, Cobb I’m sorry. I know this is a lot, I just want to talk.” It was, unsurprisingly, Din.

“Mmmhhmm,” Cobb hummed, unconvinced. “And so that was why you had a gun, right?” he demanded through the door.

“I- I panicked, alright? I wasn’t going to shoot you, I just… I just wanted to explain.”

Cobb leaned his head against the door, his heart still hammering in his chest and his breathing heavy. “Just leave,” he said stiffly, because honestly? He was feeling quite royally done with the whole situation.

“Cobb I just want-”

“Get out of here, Djarin!” Cobb demanded, and he silently cringed at the venom that dripped from the name he knew Din hated to be called. There was silence on the other side of the door, then Din muttered something, much too quiet for Cobb to hear, and heavy footsteps faded into obscurity.

Cobb let out a breath, the energy suddenly leaving him as he leaned against the door, sliding down to his knees.

He was right. He thought absently, and it was somehow the first thing that broke through his addled brain. Din did have a kid, if kid was the right word for the green little creature Cobb had seen in his arms. It definitely wasn’t human, that was for sure, so what was it? Some government experiment? A weird new species Cobb had never heard of? An extraterrestrial alien???

And not just was there an alien (alien seemed to fit, because even if that thing wasn’t an alien, it was still alien enough to Cobb) but then there were the blocks. Cobb could explain away weird kids easily enough with some weird costume or even doll (Cobb certainly hadn’t stuck around long enough to get the greatest look) but those blocks were just… just floating. Maybe Cobb could excuse just his neighbor being weird, or a creepy looking doll, or some blocks that could’ve just been hanging from strings but all three? And the lengths Din was going to cover it all up he… he… 

He needed a drink.

Cobb woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache but a merciless lack of any other hangover symptoms. He guessed he hadn’t drank that much last night, but he still felt like a big ol’ piece of crap. He pried himself out of bed, thinking over the events from last night as he got ready for work. Some silly, hopeful little part of him suggested it was all just a dream, but Cobb knew better. He didn’t think he was creative enough for such a dream anyway.

When Cobb made it to the elevators, he felt himself relax a bit when Din wasn’t standing there as he usually was. He still wasn’t sure what to do about the whole situation. He believed Din wholeheartedly when he said he wasn’t going to shoot him but even without that… his kid was an alien, what was Cobb supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?! He- was there someone he was supposed to tell? Would anyone even believe him if he tried? Probably not. Hell, Cobb didn’t think he would believe it either, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

When Cobb made it down to his car, Din was already there.

Not at Cobb’s car, mind you, but at his own, right next to Cobb’s. He was wearing the same clothes he had been last night, and he was shoving a bag in the trunk of his van when Cobb walked up.

“Hey Din, watcha doin’ there?” he asked hesitantly, stopping by his own car. Din turned to look at him and- and oh boy was he a mess. He sported matching bags under his eyes and his clothes were messy and rumpled. His hair stuck out in a million different directions, which admittedly wasn’t all that abnormal, but it had somehow reached levels of messiness previously unknown to Cobb. In fact, Cobb would’ve thought it impossible, but his horizons had been… recently expanded and crazy hair was the least of his concerns.

Din looked at Cobb like he was stupid which, rude. “Leaving,” he said bluntly.  
Cobb raised an eyebrow. “Like… leaving, leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Din looked at him for an extra moment, his face travelling through a half a dozen different emotions before he settled on one and slammed the trunk closed. “Because last time someone found out about Grogu, things didn’t go so well, Cobb. Maybe it’s because certain people find it very interesting that aliens are fucking real and so maybe I’m going on the run again! Is that a good enough reason for you?”

Cobb opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then- “You named it Grogu?”

Din looked at him for a moment, anger seeping away from his face until only exhaustion was left and then... and then he just kind of just… dropped.

Cobb panicked for a moment, reaching out to catch him, but Din stopped short of the ground, balancing on the balls of his feet. He had his head buried deep in his hands, but he seemed… fine?

Cobb crouched down in front of him, unsure of what else to do. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… it’s a bit of a weird name and…” he chuckled dryly. “This is a lot, ya know?”  
“He’s an alien, Cobb.”

“I know but you coulda called him… I don’t know, Dan or something.”

“Din and Dan, really? I- nevermind. I didn’t name him.”

“He doesn’t talk, doe-?” but Cobb didn’t get to finish. Instead Din suddenly stood up, so fast his head almost crashed into Cobb’s.

“I have to go,” he said. “I can’t… I have to go.”

Cobb stood up after him, brushing off his jeans. “Hold on their pardner,” he started, and Din’s mouth quirked up in a smile at what was, to be fair, probably the most Southern thing Cobb had ever said. “I definitely have my fair share of questions, but I ain’t gonna go telling people about… Grogu if that’s not what you want.”

“Really?” Din asked reproachfully.

“Yeah, who the hell do you think I am?”

“Well, you’re a cop, first of all.”

“Nothin’ in the law about aliens.”

Din chuckled, and then he snickered, and then he was full on laughing, leaning on his van and absolutely hysterically losing his mind. Cobb had never seen him more than aggressively breath out of his nose before, and he was just a tad bit concerned.

Din pulled himself together after a moment. “I’m sorry- I’m so… god I’m sorry.”

He was still heavily leaning on the van, and Cobb awkwardly reached over to pat his shoulder. “Uh, it’s alright?”

Din straightened up, and Cobb pulled his hand away again. “No, I- I pointed a gun at you last night and then I tried to just up and leave without saying anything and…” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Cobb smiled. “Hey, it happens, ya know?” He said, even though he was pretty sure none of this had ever happened to anyone in the history of anything. It felt polite to say regardless. “How about we go up to your place, and you can treat me to some coffee and answers?”

Din smiled, soft and tired. “Yeah, that- that sounds great.”

Din’s apartment was criminally disappointing. With all the lengths he went to hide it, Cobb had been expecting a secret safe filled with jewels or the Declaration of Independence hanging on the wall or even just like… some drugs. What he hadn’t been expecting was a weird mismatch of cheap foldable chairs and tables, a couch that not even a grandma’s curtains could love and the still very broken but pushed back upright broken lamp from last night.

There was also a crib floating in the corner, that felt important to point out.

Cobb sat on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hands, and Din sat across from him in a folding chair, the crea- Grogu in his lap and a matching cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Cobb felt remarkably overwhelmed by all of the weirdness, and his eyes kept flicking to Grogu, then over to the floating crib, and then back to Grogu and then- you get the idea.

“Where’d you get the crib?” he asked after a moment, his eyes settling on Din’s face, which was clearly the best option. Should’ve thought of that sooner.

“That’s what I found him in.”

Cobb raised an eyebrow, settling back against the couch. “And what’s that story?”

Din sighed, stroking one of Grogu’s ears absentmindedly, and then he started to explain. “I used to work for a T.V. show called The Mandalorian. It was a conspiracy, alien hunters sort of thing, just a small production. I helped do research and scout shooting locations and one day I was up a bit early, looking out some report from a nearby farm about a crop circle and… there he was. In a lettuce field.” Din paused for a second, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “In the middle of a crop circle,” he repeated, quieter.

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “How do you do a crop circle in lettuce?” he asked, pointedly shoving away the myriad of other questions that rose to his mind.

“Well it was sort of blackened, so I’m guessing it was burned away by the exhaust of whatever craft dropped him off.”

Right. Burned away by the exhaust of an alien spaceship. Of course, silly him. Cobb took another long sip from his coffee. “So it’s not all bullshit, huh?”

Din shook his head. “Nope, at least not some of it.”

Cobb thought back on every alien story he’d ever heard. People claiming to be abductees with tinfoil hats and stories of alien probes that were always nothing short of laughable and what? He was supposed to believe they were the right ones?! He was the idiot here?!  
“So then, what, you just ran?” he asked, after realizing he’d let the silence drag on for a bit too long.

Din sighed, and his eyes drifted away from Cobb and over to the floating crib, full of sadness. “No. I- I told a friend about him. I was a bit freaked, you know?” Cobb did know. Oh boy, did Cobb know. “And apparently word got out from there because one day I got a call. Some scientific group called the Imperials heard about Grogu and decided they wanted him. Offered me a good sum of money and so… I handed him over.”

Grogu babbled up at Din, reaching out to grab his face and… well if Cobb was of a less sane man he would’ve said the random noises sounded almost sad. Din let the Grogu grab onto his fingers for a moment, gently hushing him, before he continued.

“Anyway. I let them have him, but the whole situation felt off for an esteemed scientific organization. I did some more research, and apparently they have a history with sketchy science and “not technically proven” ethics violations.”

Cobb snorted. “That sounds about right, for a group kidnapping aliens.”

Din didn’t smile, and Cobb straightened his own expression with an awkward clearing of his throat before Din went on. “So I took him back, and ran.”

And Cobb could tell there were a million things left unsaid there, but considering he was learning more about Din from Din (and not his mail) then he had in the entire six months he’d known him, it felt rude to be too pushy. “Why here?” he asked after a moment. “Where’d you come from, anyway?”

“San Diego, California,” Din said, so ridiculously casually Cobb actually wondered if he was lying for a moment. “Stopped here in Van Horn after I was pretty sure we weren’t being chased anymore. Wanted a smaller place to stop at and honestly I was just tired at that point.” He seemed to remember he had his own cup of coffee at that point, sitting in front of him on the table, so he reached out and took a sip.

Oh, a bit more than that… more of a gulp. No he was still going. A chug then, a full chug from the cup of coffee.

Cobb watched with a mix of horror and admiration as Din emptied the entire cup in one go and set it back on the table.

“Still tired, huh?” Cobb asked with a smirk.

Din made a face at him. “I had a long night.”

Which yeah, that was probably an understatement. Judging alone from the fact that he was a single dad to an alien child with magical powers, Cobb was pretty sure Din had a lot of long nights.

“Well…” he started, slowly and carefully, fully aware of how batshit insane the offer he was about to make was. “I don’t know much about raisin’ a kid, or aliens with powers, much less a combination of the two but… ya seem like you could use some help round here, and I’d be glad to offer some.”

Yes, he was offering to be an alien babysitter.

Or nanny.

Or… co parent?  
What had his life come to?

But Din’s face practically lit up as he perked up in his seat, and that made whatever Cobb was getting himself into automatically very, very worth it. “You sure?” Din asked. “He’s, uh, kind of a lot.”

Cobb smiled. “Hey, I’ve already learned how to deal with you for the past six months,” he pointed out. “I think I can handle a lot.”

Din rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Well, I hope you’re right about that,” he said. Then, eyes glimmering with mischief, he added. “Too late to back out now.”

Oh, jesus Cobb was screwed.


	2. Birds Can't Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Cobb take their alien son to the park in the perfect disguise of a hat and some sunglasses. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I KNOW I already posted this but I'm working on the next chapter (sorry for the wait btw, I'll probably post tomorrow?) and this thing accidentally grew a bit of a plot sooooo I feel like it makes more sense to post it this way? Sorry, haha

“He looks ridiculous.”

“This was your idea.”

Cobb put up his hands in surrender, turning to Din. “I know, I know. And I still think it’ll work…” He paused for a moment, before going on. “Buuut I also think we should acknowledge he looks a bit ridiculous.”

Grogu sat on the couch in front of them, and Cobb could proudly report he hardly looked like an alien at all. He was wearing a onesie, which had been a pain to get on, but it was worth it for the full coverage of his green skin and clawed feet with little risk of exposure. His hands were covered in a pair of little mittens he tried to take off every couple minutes, and then all that was left was his head, which was by far the hardest part. He wore a beanie pulled as low over his ears as they could get it, and a scarf wrapped around the rest of his face. Except for his eyes of course, which had to be covered with a pair of sunglasses.

Din sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Remind why we’re doing this again?” he asked, and Cobb was happy to launch into his explanation once more.

“Because it can’t be good for him to be cooped up like this, and that’s probably part of the reason he’s always actin’ out and floating stuff,” he said, wiggling his fingers in his best impression of magical telekinesis powers for extra effect. “It’ll be better in the long run,” he assured Din.

Din nodded. “Right,” he agreed, but he sounded unconvinced.

Cobb grinned, elbowing him. “And hey, it’d be a shame to have all our hard work getting him all dressed up go to waste.”

Din raised an eyebrow at him. “I was the one who got him dressed, you just watched.”

Cobb frowned. “Okay, true, but it’s not my fault he kept freaking out whenever I tried. I helped pick out the scarf and provided moral support, what more could you ask for?”

Din was silent for a moment, looking back at Grogu. “I think the scarf is the worst part.”

“What? That scarf looks great!” Cobb protested, adjusting his own scarf on his neck. Worst part, please. You’re just jealous of our great scarves, Din.

“He’s suffocating in it, Cobb!”

“He’s fiiine, come on, we should get going,” he said, leaving no room for argument as he headed for the door.

Din sighed behind him, but he dutifully followed, Grogu in arms.

They made it down to the parking lot and Din headed for his van, pulling open one of the doors, but Cobb hesitated.

“You sure you don’t want to take my car?” he asked, patting its roof.

Din looked at him quizzically. “What’s wrong with the Razor Crest?”

Well… the van was kind of falling apart. The silvery paint was peeling off, the windows were scuffed, it had dents in half a dozen places and Cobb had never once seen Din get one of the doors open without at least a little struggle. Overall, it looked like the type of van you’d entice kids into with some jawbreakers, and Cobb didn’t really love that look.

“Nothing!” he assured Din instead. “It just… it looks… it looks like the type of van you’d commit crimes in, Din.” Which, if he thought about it a bit, was technically true. Stealing Grogu back from some weird scientists was certainly the right move, but that didn’t mean it was legal.

Din just rolled his eyes at him. “Get in the car, Vanth.”

“Fine, Djarin,” Cobb said, getting into the passenger seat. To his surprise, the inside of the van was actually pretty clean. Not like he thought Din was a slob or anything just… well again it looked like a crime van.

Din got in the driver seat, with Grogu in his lap, and started up the car (after a try or two).

“Do you want me to take him?” Cobb asked, after Din finally got the van running. He couldn’t imagine driving with a kid in your lap was all that comfortable… or safe.

Din shrugged. “You can try, if you want.”

And, sure maybe Cobb was down, but he seriously doubted Grogu would be so willing. The little gremlin still seemed very… wary of Cobb, no matter how much he and Din tried to convince the kid that Cobb was fine, he was one of the good guys here. So, admittedly, maybe Cobb was a little hesitant about taking a weird alien baby in his lap that would probably just fuss about it the whole time.

But he would.

For Din.

And also because the alternative was maybe letting a baby fly through the car window, and neither the baby nor the already cracked window deserved that. So he nodded.

“Alright buddy, I’m going to hand you over to Cobb, sound good?” And Grogu babbled up at Din in a way that gave Cobb the impression that no, it did not sound good, but Din lifted him up and set him on Cobb’s lap anyway.

Grogu looked up at Cobb, and he swore he felt the hairs on his neck rise. Grogu turned back to Din, reaching out with his little arms towards him, but Din gently pushed them down.

“Just stay put,” he ordered, and so Grogu obediently put his arms down and went back to looking up at Cobb. The sunglasses concealed his expression nicely, but Cobb would’ve swore Grogu was glaring at him.

Din pulled out of the parking lot and started driving to the park they were headed to in silence, leaving Cobb to just awkwardly stare at his charge. “Yayyy, bonding time,” he muttered down to the little alien, accompanied by some excited jazz hands. Grogu, however, stubbornly refused to give him any sort of response, so he decided to just stop trying.

Din snorted at him. “Sorry, I guess he’s not the most social.”

Cobb shrugged. “Can’t really blame him, after the whole crash-landing on Earth and bein’ experimented on thing.”

Din was silent for a moment, his hands tightening on the wheel a bit and… yeah that was probably a bit of a touchy subject. Cobb opened his mouth to apologize, but Din loudly cleared his throat instead. “Yeah… fair enough,” he said softly.

===

They made it to the park soon enough, and Din took Grogu back from Cobb for the short walk to the playground. It was fall, which wasn’t evident by any beautiful fiery trees but by the fact that the grass at the park was more yellow than usual. Still, it was fairly nice outside, which hopefully meant Grogu wouldn’t burn up in his scarf-hat-mittens-onesie combo. More importantly, the park was blessedly empty, so there was little risk of someone looking out their window and finding a floating alien. (Din said Grogu had never floated himself before, but Cobb wouldn’t put it past him. Although, also according to Din, Grogu had floated him once, which was a story Cobb still wanted to hear.)

Cobb didn’t really know what kids were supposed to do alone on a playground, and neither did Din, so they just set him down and trusted him to figure it out.

Problem: Grogu wasn’t from Earth and playgrounds most definitely were.

He just looked up at them in confusion, and then let out a confused little babble.

Din gestured to the playground. “Go on, go… play.”

Grogu reached his arms up again, so Din sighed, picked him up, walked over to the playground and just kinda… put him on top of the slide.

"Bah?”

“Yeah,” Din agreed, even though Grogu hadn’t said much to agree to. “Go down.”

And well, it turned out Grogu was actually quite the fan of slides. He shrieked the first time Din pushed him down, so loudly both of them cast nervous glances around them to make sure they were still alone. Then he just… sat at the bottom for a second, and Cobb was a little nervous they’d actually traumatized the poor kid. He had crashed down to Earth in a spaceship afterall, maybe- but then he let out a happy little squeal and tried to clamber back up the slide, which he failed at spectacularly, and Din had to show him where the stairs were instead.

Grogu seemed content enough in his loop of climbing the stairs and falling back down the same slide, so Din and Cobb settled down at a nearby bench to watch.

Cobb let out a low whistle. “He’s going to be wiped later.”

Din smiled. “I hope so.”

And Cobb smiled back, looking back out at where Grogu had last made the incredible discovery that there were other slides on the playground as well. And that’s when he noticed the bird.

It was hovering in the air, floating and flapping its wings as it struggled in place. Cobb looked at it, and then back down to Grogu who, sure enough, was reaching out for the bird, happily babbling.

“Din…” Cobb started hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Din asked, but he had chosen that moment of all the moments to be leaned over tying his shoe, which meant either the universe had a sick sense of humor, or the kid did.

“That bird is, uh, flying…” Cobb said, staring back up at the little sparrow.

Din finished tying his shoe and looked up at Cobb, clearly confused. “Yeah Cobb, that’s what birds do?”

And, okay fine, maybe Cobb could have worded that better but come on! Context! “I- no that ain’t… just look,” he insisted, jabbing a finger up at the sky where the sparrow was- gone.

Well, not gone, instead it was awkwardly flapping away to land on a nearby tree, but it was no longer suspended in midair. He looked down at Grogu, who had returned to clambering up the stairs of the playground, completely innocent.

“Yep,” Din confirmed from his side, reminding Cobb he was still there. “That’s a flying bird all right.” He turned to Cobb, slight worry pushing his brows together. “Are you okay?”

Cobb eyed the kid for a moment, but then he just shook his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assured Din. He could’ve mentioned it but… well Grogu had dropped it, and he had to get the kid to like him somehow, right? “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Din still looked thoroughly unconvinced and, well, Cobb had to admit wasn’t entirely unfair. He was yammering on about the novelty that was “flying birds” afterall. Besides, Cobb had figured it would stop there. Grogu would mess around with his powers a bit, get caught doing it, stop and then… that would be it.

That was not it.

Only a couple minutes later, Grogu had decided he was bored with the slides again, and had snatched up a dozen woodchips to hover in the air in front of him.

“Hey Din-” Cobb started again.

“Yeah?”

And the woodchips fell to the ground. So the kid was the one with the sick sense of humor, and he should probably tell Din, but if he told Din they’d probably have to go and… alright Cobb really wanted the kid to like him. “What do ya say we take Grogu on the swings?” he offered instead.

Din looked over at the swingset and nodded with a slight shrug. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed, scooping up Grogu.

The swings were also Grogu’s favorite (turns out the kid was a little thrill-seeker) and after the slides there wasn’t even any initial terror to get over. They stood by him and he swung, Din pushing him while Cobb leaned against one of the thick, red poles, occasionally pulling faces at the kid as he came back down.

“You know,” Din said after a moment, his voice measured and careful. “I think you were right about the whole getting out thing. He probably needed this, and there hasn’t even been any trouble so far.” He paused for a moment, and then smiled. “Miraculously enough.”

Well, not that Din was aware of. Cobb thought, but he swallowed down the bit of worry that rose in his chest and just nodded, smirking. “‘Course. This is probably just what he needed. Good chance to burn some energy without any-” he waggled his fingers in the air in his best impression of some sort of magic. “-magic power stuff.”

Din snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Cobb watched Grogu swing for another moment, and then a thought came to his mind. “You, know, with how much we call it magic powers, or the floaty thing, or mind powers, or whatever… we should really come up with a better name, huh?” Cobb said, hoping he wasn’t changing the subject too jarringly.

But Din just cocked his head curiously. “Like what?” he asked.

Cobb thought about it for a second, trying to think of something that didn’t sound even more stupid than their already proposed options until- “Alright, alright, what about “The Force,”” he offered, spreading his hands out in front of him to emphasize the words.

“The Force?” Din echoed doubtfully.

“Yeah! ‘Cause he moves things around, with a mysterious sort of… force.”

“That sounds stupid.”

"Hey!” Cobb playfully smacked him in the arm, and Din just rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you come up with something better.”

"I think I’ll stick with magic powers, thanks”

And they stood like that for a while, chatting idly while the sun started to creep ever closer to the horizon as more time slipped by. Eventually Cobb’s eyes flitted over to the orange-glazed sky, and he took it as a reliable sign it was starting to get late.

"Well,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and straightening up from the pole he was leaning on. “Reckon we should start heading out?” he asked.

Din nodded, reaching out for the chain of the swing to bring Grogu to a stop. “Yeah sounds…” but his voice dropped off as his hand found nothing but empty air.

The two of them shared a confused look, and Cobb turned his eyes upwards, following the path the chain should’ve been until… oh.

The swing sat frozen in the air, like someone had taken a picture of the kid swinging at the height of his path and somehow shoved it into reality. Grogu still sat in the seat up top, letting out happy little babbles.

"Shit…” Din muttered next to him, and Cobb just nodded in agreement. “Grogu!” Din shouted up, stepping away from the base of the swings. Grogu just looked down at them, before giving them a little wave. “Uh… yeah, hi!” Cobb waved too, mostly because he wasn’t really sure what else to do to help.

“Listen buddy, can you come down from there?” Din went on. “Remember what we said about using your powers in public?” Grogu cocked his head at them, as if to say “No, father, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” or maybe “Sorry, I’m hanging 10 feet in the air in a swing and even though my ears are the size of an elephant’s they’re also trapped under five layers of fabric and I can’t hear you, try again later.”

Either way, he didn’t make any move to return to Earth, and Din let out another frustrated sigh. “I think I might have some cookies in the Razor Crest, just wait here,” he said. Cobb flashed him a big thumbs up, and then Din was off.

Cobb looked back up at Grogu, who was swinging his legs above him and fumbling with his hat, which meant he was officially revolting against them. “Hey, hey, stop that,” Cobb chastised, pointing a finger up at him. “You gotta keep the hat on, alright?” Grogu paused for a moment, and Cobb thought the little alien might actually be listening to him for once, but then he gave his hat another tug and the beanie fell to the ground at Cobb’s feet. Great.

He picked it up just as Din came back, a little pack of Oreos in hand. He eyed the hat with dismay, but opened the two-pack of cookies and held one into the air. “Groguuuuu,” he called out, waving the treat around a bit. “I have some cookies for you, if you come down.” Grogu reached out for the cookies, babbling his interest. “Yeah,” Din prompted. “They look good, don’t they? So just-” but then the cookie flew out of his hand and up to the child.

Din blinked at his empty hand, and then looked up at Cobb, who was desperately trying to hold in his laughter.

Because well… the kid had magic powers, they couldn’t be too surprised when he decided to use them. “I’m, I’m sorry. I know this is bad but… you have to admit it’s pretty funny too.”

Din sighed again. “I can’t find the humor,” he admitted dryly, and Cobb stifled his laughter down to a grin.

“C’mon, it’s getting dark anyway, no one can see us. He’ll have to tucker himself out eventually, right?”

Din looked doubtful, but he shook his head after a moment. “Don’t see what else we can do.”

===

10 minutes later and Grogu still hadn’t shown any signs of being tired enough to come down. Instead, an ever-growing pile of discarded clothes laid on the ground below him, despite both Din and Cobb’s insistence that he stopped that. (Although Cobb noted with pride the scarf was still on. Then Din had noted with pure apathy that it wasn’t from lack of trying, Cobb. Cobb noted with a bit of a pout that maybe Din should shut up a bit.) It was still getting dark, and no one was around at the playground so late, but even Cobb was starting to get pretty anxious. And that was to say nothing of Din of course. The guy hadn’t stopped pacing the entire time, and he was actually wearing a considerable path through the woodchips at that point.

And, well, after 10 minutes of pacing, Cobb decided it was about time he came to a stop.

Cobb reached out and grabbed Din’s leg from where he was sitting in the woodchips. (What? It was a baby stake-out at that point, he wasn’t going to stand the whole time.) Din almost tripped, but he caught himself and looked down at Cobb.

"What?”

“Sit down,” Cobb ordered, not letting go of his pants leg.

Din just stared down at him. “Why?”

“‘Cause all that pacing ain’t getting you anywhere, and I’d like the company.”

“Can you let go of me?”

“Can you sit down?”

Another sigh, but one laced with humor. “Fine,” Din conceded, and Cobb let go, grinning triumphantly.

Din sat down next to him, but Cobb scooched in a little closer because hey, it was cold outside. Din was warm. He would’ve moved if Din seemed uncomfortable, but he didn’t move away. No, in fact he leaned into Cobb right back and good god his heart could’ve melted right then and there.

“What if he just stays up there now?” Din asked after a moment, and Cobb couldn’t help but chuckle.

"I don’t think he’ll stay up there forever, now,” he said. He nudged Din slightly. “Gotta come down to his dad sometime, right?”

Din smiled softly, but then his brow furrowed together with worry again. “What if he stays up there for three more hours?” he asked, a distinct exhaustion in his voice.

And, alright yeah, that was a more plausible (and therefore worrying) concern. “I’m sure he’ll tire himself out,” Cobb said more confidently than he felt, repeating his thoughts from earlier.

"Yeah… you’d think, huh?” Din responded softly, and Cobb smiled.

They sat in silence for a bit longer, looking up at Grogu as he struggled with his scarf. Then Din pulled something out of his pocket, and a plastic crinkle later he had shoved the other cookie from their failed attempts at bribery into his mouth. He offered another packet to Cobb. “Want one?” he asked.

Cobb was about to deny, because he wasn’t all that hungry, but before he could say anything Grogu let out a dismayed babble from above.

Din looked up at him, cocking his head. “You don’t want Cobb to have the cookies?” he asked, humor touching the edges of his voice. Another unhappy babble, which, rude, but Cobb could work with that. He reached out for the Oreos.

"Well too bad, ‘cause I really want these cookies,” he said. “And unless you come down here and stop me, I think I might have a couple.” Din passed over the package, and Cobb felt a small pull against it, but he held on tight. He ripped off the side of the packaging, and pulled out an Oreo. “Mmmmm, this looks great,” he said as overdramatically as he could. He made an exaggerated lean forward to take a bite, and that’s when the swing started to lower.

They both scrambled to their feet, Din first and Cobb just behind him, as the swing made it closer and closer to them until Din could scoop Grogu right out of his little baby seat and it went swinging the rest of the way down.

Din held the child up, looking at him sternly. “Grogu, you can’t do that, alright?” he started, and as he lectured the little alien (Cobb had no idea how much of that would stick, but he was betting on none), Cobb gathered up his discarded pieces of disguise and led the charge to the van, sorry, Razor Crest, Din just behind. They stopped by the van and Din, with a final reassurance to the kid that he loved him (with the unspoken but very implied addition of “even if you are a bastard”) passed him over to Cobb for the ride back. Din got in the car but Cobb paused for a moment, holding the very obviously tired alien up to eye-level.

“I just want to remind you that I was the cool one today,” he told him. “Din was the one that made you leave after I let you play around with that force stuff-” What? It was a good name. “-all you wanted.”

Grogu regarded him through sleepy eyes for a moment, and then reached a clawed hand up to gently smack Cobb in the face with a coo.

Cobb decided to take that as a sign of approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come chat or hit me up on insta @emeryductie  
> Also if you have more ideas for shenanigans in this universe I'm all ears :D


	3. Sickness, Snot and Soup... Superb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grogu gets sick and Din and Cobb try their absolute best to help.
> 
> In their defense he is an alien.
> 
> Absolutely not in their defense is the fact that that shouldn't affect their soup-making skills.
> 
> Yet here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOSH this took a while to get out. Sorry, I just started up in-person schooling again (yaaaayyy?) And it's been A Lot. Also the end of this chapter just didn't want to work for me. Rude.

Grogu was sick.

Or, at least he seemed sick.

Admittedly, Din didn’t know a lot about alien biology (there was only so much to learn from conspiracy theories) but Grogu was tired, grouchy, definitely running a temperature and had already thrown up on Din twice, so at the very least he was sick by human standards.

Problem: Din had no idea how to care for a sick child, human or otherwise.

Like, sure, obviously he got sick sometimes, but his approach was usually to take some DayQuil, maybe some Ibuprofen, and then just... go to work. And somehow that didn’t seem like the best approach for an actual infant. Plus, he was hesitant to give Grogu any actual medicine. Sure, the kid frequently gobbled up whatever food, drinks, bugs, and frogs he could get his little claws on with seemingly no adverse effects (at least not before) but giving him mixtures of chemicals specifically concocted for human needs didn’t strike Din as the best idea.

So, in conclusion, Grogu was sick, Din had no ideas, and only one person to turn to.

+++

“102.3 degrees fahrenheit,” Din reported to the phone in his hand, carefully cradling a sleepy Grogu in one arm while he resisted the urge to get up and start pacing again. Afterall, Grogu had already made his detest for that plenty clear by vomiting on Din for a third time after being jostled around too much.

Cobb whistled over the phone. “That’s a fever alright. How’s the little guy doing?”

Din had Cobb on speaker, both so the phone was easier to hold and so Grogu could comment if he really wanted to. He wasn’t very chatty at the moment, and Din hadn’t expected him to be, but it had become a habit since Cobb quite literally walked right into the chaos that was his life.

Still, Grogu babbled something sad there. “Not great,” Din confirmed. “Do you know what I’m supposed to… do?”

“Well… I’d recommend taking him to the doctor but…” There was a moment of silence, presumably while Cobb tried to figure out how to articulate “Grogu’s an alien currently being hunted down by a group of evil scientists so he needs to stay in hiding, plus there’s very little chance even the best doctors would have any clue what to do with him.” Instead Cobb chose a different approach.

“But it doesn’t seem all too serious,” he finished instead.

Which, yeah that was fair. It seemed like Grogu just had a simple cold or stomach bug, but he was also from space and what if a simple cold could kill him?! Din didn’t know how Grogu’s biology was different, didn’t know what his symptoms could mean, didn’t know how much a “simple” cold could affect him.

“We don’t know that,” Din argued.

“Well… I guess that’s true,” Cobb admitted. “Anything else wrong with him or is it just the fever?”

Din nodded. “He won’t eat anything, he seems more tired than usual, he’s thrown up a couple times, he’s all stuffy, and he keeps shaking,” he listed off, gently rocking Grogu in his arm.

Cobb hummed thoughtfully over the phone. “I’m gonna come down, alright?”

Din nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly in relief. “I- yeah that sounds good. Thanks.”

“No problem, see you in a few.”

His phone blipped as Cobb hung up the call, and only a couple minutes later his door swung open. (Cobb hardly bothered to knock anymore. Din had given him a key for emergencies, but he seemed happy to use it whenever he pleased.)

“Hi,” Din greeted tiredly, standing up.

“Hey!” Cobb greeted with significantly more energy. He reached out his arms for Grogu as Din stood up, and Din handed the child over to little protest. Grogu was only recently willing to let Cobb hold him, but it probably helped that he seemed too tired to fight against it much.

Cobb carefully cradled Grogu his arms, pressing the back of hand to the alien’s forehead. “Aw, poor guy’s burning up,” he commented, holding Grogu up a little closer to his face. “How ya doing?” he asked gently. “Feelin a bit under the-”

“ACHOO!”

Grogu suddenly sneezed louder than Din would’ve thought possible for such a little guy, and the spray of green goop splattered onto Cobb’s face was nothing to laugh at either.

But Din snorted anyway, reaching out to take Grogu back from an utterly shocked Cobb. “I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to hold back laughter.

Cobb just slowly raised a hand to his face, carefully wiping away some of the bright green snot on his face before looking down at his fingers in disgust. Then he sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably my own fault anyway.”

Din nodded because, well he was pretty sure it was recommended to keep sick, snotty children away from your face, but to each his own. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, pointing.

“Yeah, I know,” Cobb said with a smirk. “I practically live here half the- oh god I think some just got in my mouth.” And with that, he was suddenly dashing down the hall, away from Din and right to the bathroom.

“Okay good luck!” Din called after Cobb, trying not to make too much of a face. Then he looked back down at Grogu, who was still sniffling. “You don’t have poisonous boogers or anything, right?” he asked. Grogu just cooed softly, which wasn’t much of an answer, but Din resigned himself to just taking what he could get and grabbed some tissues to wipe Grogu’s nose with.

Cobb came back a couple minutes later, no longer covered in snot.

“So how’d it taste?” Din asked with a smile as Cobb settled down on the couch next to him.

“Oh ha-ha,” Cobb replied dryly, elbowing Din in the side. “I wouldn’t go recommending it, that’s for sure,” he added, eyeing Grogu warily.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good thinking,” Cobb complimented.

“Thanks,” Din accepted dryly. “Anyway, you came down here for a reason right? So what are the doctor’s orders?” he joked.

“Well,” Cobb started, bringing a hand up to his beard thoughtfully. “He’s definitely sick.”

Din nodded. Yep, got that. “Yeah?”

“Which means… we should…”

“Yeah??”

“Probably just...”

“Yeah???”

“Okay, fine I have no idea.”

Din groaned, settling his head on the back of the couch in defeat.

“Well he’s an alien!” Cobb said defensively. “That’s your thing!”

"Well sure, but he’s also a kid.” Or at least Din thought he was a kid. Technically Din wasn’t sure Grogu was actually a child, but he seemed like a child, and any other line of thought got weird if Din really considered it so… Grogu was a child. “What do you do when kids are sick?”

"Uh… soup? Sleep?” Cobb offered.

“Not very confident, huh?” Din commented dryly.

“Well hey, you don’t know what to do either,” Cobb pointed out which, fair. Then he straightened up. “Oh! But you knew who would?”

"Who?” Din asked hesitantly.

"Omera! She’s a mom, she’ll know what to do.”

Din slowly sat up, looking Cobb directly in the eyes. “Cobb,” he started, very carefully. “We are not, I repeat not, telling more people about Grogu.”

Cobb waved a hand dismissively. “I know, I know. But we can get her great parenting advice without giving away the whole situation.”

Din raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure.” Cobb pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Trust me,” he said. “I’ll be plenty subtle about it.

Din frowned at him, but then he nodded. “Alright, alright, yeah, she can probably help. Just… give it some space so she doesn’t hear Grogu.”

Cobb nodded. “Got it.”

He headed into the other room, and Din looked back down at Grogu, who had firmly gripped a hand on the fabric of Din’s shirt. Usually Din would stop him, so Grogu’s claws didn’t tear up his clothes, but he didn’t have the heart to tell him off when he was already sick. Instead he gently stroked one of Grogu’s long, green ears, hoping that could get him to fall asleep.

Cobb came back several minutes later.

“So, what’d she say?” Din asked, straightening up.

“Well, she said hypothetically, we should let him rest, make sure he’s getting enough fluids and maybe some soup,” Cobb said triumphantly.

Din nodded. That made sense, that was doable. He didn’t think he had any soup, but maybe he could find the time to pick some up from the store later and fluids were a given, that wouldn’t be too hard so… wait, hypothetically???

“I- Cobb did you just… tell her what’s going on with the word hypothetically in front?”

There was a moment of very telling silence while Din stared Cobb down and Cobb stared back at him, apparently at a loss for words.

“Okay hear me out-”

“COBB!”

“Hear me out!”

Din had many thoughts and many words to express them with, but he bit down on his tongue, nodding for Cobb to continue.

“Okay, I didn’t mention anything about an alien, hardly even mentioned you,” Cobb started explaining. “And, if we’re being honest here, she already thinks you have a kid anyways.”

“Wait, she what?!”

“Not from me!” Cobb said quickly. “Well… kind of from me, it was before I knew about Grogu though.”

“Then… how?”

“We gossiped,” Cobb told him.

“I- about me?”

Cobb smiled. “Yep.”

Din was silent, trying to figure out what to say to that before, “Like, good gossip or bad gossip?”

Cobb chuckled. “More like: Mysterious, hot new neighbor makes weird noises sometimes and buys baby supplies but claims to not have a kid and is weirdly cagey about everything regarding his personal life gossip.”

That was a lot. There was a lot to unpack there. Mostly that Omera thought he had a kid and she thought that because she used to talk about it with Cobb and was Din really that loud? Was he really being that obvious? That was concerning, definitely… or at least it should have been, but somehow all of that went through Din’s head like water through his fingertips and the only thought frozen enough to grab onto was- “You thought I was hot?”

“Still do,” Cobb confirmed, with a wink towards Din.

Din felt his face flush and he pointedly looked anywhere but Cobb. “Uh, thanks, you too,” he said, silently cursing his own awkwardness, which was just shameful at that point. Cobb had been subtly (and not-so-subtly if Din was being honest) flirting with Din for months at that point, and still all he had to say in response was “you too?” Really? In his defense, he’d spent several of those months ignoring those flirts because… well he wasn’t even sure if Cobb was being serious or not. Maybe they were just jokes, maybe he was just like that! In the end, Din reasoned it made more sense to just ignore it all until he was more sure.

But then time went on and Din did become more sure, but he still didn’t do anything about it. Because he had Grogu! He couldn’t risk being found out and it wasn’t fair to Cobb to keep all of that hidden away, nor was it fair to dump all of that on him. He just couldn’t really do a relationship at the time, and that was going to have to be fine. It was fine!

BUT THEN Cobb found out about Grogu and Din was completely out of excuses. And if Din was being honest they spent all their time together anyway and he should probably just ask the guy out already but-

Din cleared his throat. “So you said soup?”

Cobb looked at him for a moment, like he was studying a strange specimen that had been genetically modified to suck at flirting, but then he nodded his head slightly. “Yep, soup. Omera recommended homemade, said she could text us a recipe if we wanted.”

Din hesitated, thoughtfully biting his lip. “Can you cook?”

Cobb shrugged. “Can’t be that hard.”

Din didn’t have a lot of cooking experience, and what little he did had taught him that, yes actually, it could be that hard. But Cobb’s confidence did wonders against his own nerves, and he found himself nodding. “Soup it is then.”

+++

Din was right.

He was right and he should’ve said something because cooking was hard and he wished it wasn’t too late to back out then.

He’d gotten Grogu to go to sleep in the crib in the living room, which was great because it meant he didn’t have to hear the cursing after Cobb cut his finger peeling potatoes or Din burned his hand on the stove. (He joked they had matching battle scars, which was really only a bit of an exaggeration.) Instead it was just Cobb and Din, trying, and failing miserably, to make some damn soup.

“It says we need a bouillon cube,” Din read off from the recipe on Cobb’s phone, graciously provided by Omera.

“Uhhh… I don’t think I grabbed that.” Cobb had gone shopping while Din stayed with Grogu, but Walmart hadn’t been able to provide them with everything they needed, and some of it Din didn’t feel like buying just to have it sit in his kitchen for the rest of eternity (he insisted on paying) so they might have been short a couple items.

“Well… aren’t those just really salty or something?” Din wasn’t entirely sure what a bouillon cube was, but he was pretty sure it was some sort of flavoring so… “Put some more salt in,” he advised.

Cobb peered over his shoulder at the screen. “I don’t know… I thought it thickened it or something like a… what’s the word… collagen!”

And fuck that kind of sounded right too. Din hummed thoughtfully. If he was being honest, he was pretty sure they’d already ruined the soup so… what more harm could be done?

“I think I have some gelatin powder.”

“That’s probably the same thing.”

Din took that as a sign of approval and got the white box from the cabinet, pulling the top open. He had no clue why he had gelatin powder in his apartment (maybe he was going to try to make Jell-o? Maybe it was an accident? Maybe whoever lived there before just… left it? Maybe Grogu summoned it with his magic powers?? Who could say?) but, well, he had it, so it might as well get some use. He offered the box to Cobb, who just shook his head.

“Nah, I have no clue how much to add. You do it.”

“I mean… I don’t know how much to add either,” Din pointed out.

“Well I’m sure ya can’t do any worse.”

Din sighed and hesitantly poured some of the powder. It came out just a bit faster than he would’ve liked, and he had to scramble to pull the box away. Cobb dipped a spoon into the bubbling mixture and stirred it a couple times until there was no sign of the gelatin.

“It looks… fine?” Cobb said, with enough hesitancy that Din was confident they were both aware of how insane what they were trying was. “I mean, it doesn’t look worse,” he clarified.

“Doesn’t smell great.”

Cobb laughed, and Din smiled. “I’m sure that’ll all… boil out,” Cobb said, confidently slamming the lid down on the top of the pot. “It just says to let it simmer now.”

“So… we did it?” Din asked, relieved that at least it was over.

Cobb shrugged. “We did something,” he agreed.

Din chuckled, because that was probably the most accurate way to describe whatever the hell they’d concocted in that pot. Just… “something.”

Of course, their work wasn’t done just yet. They still had to clean up the chaos Din’s poor kitchen had been subjected to, but by then Din was happy to do anything that wasn’t chop vegetables and try and guess how much “a pinch” was and hunt down reasonable substitutes for whatever Cobb happened to have missed at the store. So Din was happy to turn up the music they were listening to just a tad, and settle into an easy rhythm doing dishes, tossing scraps and wiping counters with Cobb by his side.

They fell into an easy silence pretty quickly, the music and percussive sounds of their cleaning being all that Din could hear. That is, of course, until Cobb started singing.

He was quiet about it at first, muttering the words under his breath so faintly Din wasn’t even sure he was singing at first, but as the music carried on, so did he. Cobb’s voice gently crescendoed until Din couldn’t possibly ignore it, enthralled by the singing. He paused at the sink for a moment, his hands stilling from where they scrubbed a cutting board until he gently reached out to subtly turn off the water, letting Cobb’s singing wash over him instead as he turned to look at his friend.

Cobb stood by one of the countertops, wiping a rag over Din’s counter where they had spilled some broth or something. He moved slowly and lazily, like he was focused more on the song than the task at hand. Din watched him for a couple moments, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth until Cobb finally noticed him.

He stopped singing for a moment, and Din immediately regretted turning to stare at all. He opened his mouth to apologize, but then Cobb smiled and cut him off with an outstretched hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Din just stared at his hand for a moment, because well, he had absolutely no clue how to dance and usually that went hand-in-and with his utter lack of desire to try. But Cobb’s smile was so bright and the music had slowed down nicely and so… Din took his hand.

Cobb pulled him forward so they were shockingly close for a moment, before he stepped back, leading Din across the kitchen floor somewhat in time to the music that gently flowed through the tiny speaker on his phone. Din let Cobb lead, and when he held out his arm for Din to spin or dipped him down into his arms, Din obliged with laughter that he hoped hid the butterflies in his stomach. He soon learned that, quite frankly, Cobb wasn’t much of a better dancer than him, but he did it with a confidence that was intoxicating.

Indeed, the song came to a stop all too soon, and the pair came to a stumbling halt. Din realized their faces were inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes like they held the meaning of life. Then he found his eyes flicking down to Cobb’s lips and he leaned forward ever so slightly and-

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Din jumped, jerking away from Cobb so quickly he rammed his head into the cabinet behind him with a curse. Cobb blinked in surprise and leaned over to shut off the alarm.

“You good?” he asked after a moment.

Din rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

Cobb nodded and smiled. “Well, soup’s ready,” he announced.

Which was rude of it, honestly. Not only the soup’s bad timing (although that was rude too) but the fact that it had to be ready at all. Because that meant they had to try it. “Unfortunately enough,” Din muttered.

And, before Cobb could get another word in, Din pulled the lid off the soup and… and woah.

Cobb blinked in surprise, pure shock wiping all other emotions from his face as he turned to the pot. “I-it smells good.”

Din nodded silently, still trying to process that information himself. “Did we make soup?” he asked, somewhat giddy.

Cobb grinned, and handed him one of the spoons they’d used to taste-test earlier. “Only one way to find out.”

Din took the spoon and dipped it into the soup, getting a bold helping of vegetables, meat and broth. “On three?” he suggested as Cobb filled his own spoon.

Cobb nodded. “One,” he started.

“Two,” Din continued.

“Three.”

And with that, in perfect sync, they raised the spoons to their mouths.

And then, somehow even more harmoniously than before, they both leaned over the sink and spat it out.

“Oh my god.”

“Heavens to Betsy, that’s bad.”

“I- I just… it’s so salty.” Din managed to get out, still hunched over the sink.

“Mine felt slimy, was yours slimy?”

Din nodded, pressing his eyes shut. “Gelatin was a mistake.”

“Everything was a mistake.”

Din nodded gravely, because that seemed like a great way to sum up the entire soup experience: a mistake.

“We’re never telling Omera about this,” Cobb said gravely.

“Oh definitely not.”

Cobb smiled faintly. “As far as she’s concerned, the soup was amazing. Too bad we didn’t have any leftovers through, huh?”

Din smiled as well. “Oh yeah, Grogu loved it especially. The recipe was great.”

Cobb looked over at the pot mournfully. “Man, it probably was.”

Din sighed, letting his head thunk down on the counter in front of him. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Cobb sighed, and then pushed away from the counter. Din heard a plastic crinkling from behind him, and looked up just as Cobb plopped a Walmart bag onto the counter with a loud, metallic clunk.

“Is that-?”

Cobb nodded. “Yep,” he said, pulling two cans of soup out of the bag. “Chicken noodle. I thought we might need it.”

Din sighed in relief. “Yeah, good call.” He smiled tiredly. “Probably should’ve just started there.”

“Hey, you know what they say. It’s about the journey, not the destination or whatever.” He smirked slightly. “I had fun.”

“Yeah,” Din said thoughtfully. “Me too.” He found it a little surprising, because he’d gotten burned more than once, agonized over all the ingredients they were missing, and made some truly awful soup in a remarkably unsatisfying process. It easily could’ve been the worst but… well he got to do it with Cobb, and they’d laughed as they messed up, and tried to add gelatin and cumin and all the random spices Din had in his cabinet to make up for his lack of thyme and garlic powder. And then they had danced in the kitchen and... He realized Cobb was silently looking at him thoughtfully, and Din wondered if he was thinking the same thing. If he was replaying those moments where Din had leaned in carefully, or if he hadn’t noticed them at all. Din wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I should probably go check on Grogu, see if he’s ready for some soup,” Din said, tilting his head over to the living room.

Cobb looked up, apparently having been brought back down to Earth. “Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, totally. I can get it started in here.”

Din nodded. “Thanks, sounds good,” he said, before heading off into the living room.

Grogu was still laying down peacefully in his floating crib. Din had given him a little blanket, but he’d kicked it off at some point, and was laying with his little green limbs spread out in all directions. He seemed to be fast asleep though, which was a good sign.

Din carefully reached out and pressed a hand to his forehead, which he found was still burning up. Grogu shuffled a bit, and then he cracked his big eyes open with a small coo.

“Hey,” Din greeted softly, letting Grogu grab onto one of his fingers once Din pulled them away from his forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Grogu babbled something softly, stretching in his little bed and reaching up for Din, which was one of the gestures Din had easily been able to decipher. He picked Grogu up. “You want some soup?” he asked. Grogu babbled something else, nodding up at Din, who smiled in return. “Well good, Cobb got some from the store earlier,” Din said, taking Grogu back with him to the kitchen.

“Oh well look who it is,” Cobb greeted while they entered, waving at Grogu.

Grogu waved back. “Indeed it is,” Din confirmed, smiling down at Grogu. “He’s still pretty hot though. Thanks for getting the soup ready.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Cobb said absentmindedly, pouring some of the soup into a bowl. “Still running a fever though? Poor guy.”

“Yeah, hopefully getting some food will help,” Din said, looking down at the groggy little alien in his arms. He was trying to convince himself there was nothing to worry about, that Grogu didn’t seem that sick, but it felt impossible to find any hold on logic. Anytime he tried, he was always battered down by the fact that he had no idea what he was doing. And the worst part was: Neither did anyone else! He didn’t have any parenting books to turn to, couldn’t take Grogu to a doctor, he couldn’t even ask Omera for advice, at least not with a dozen layers of hypotheticals and lies and deception. The only person he had was Cobb. Which was great! Don’t get him wrong, Cobb was great! But he didn’t know what he was doing either, Grogu was an alien, no one did. Hell, they couldn’t even make soup right! How were they supposed-

The beeping of the microwave cut him off again but he was more relieved than disappointed the second time around.

“Soup’s ready,” Cobb said with a smile.

Din nodded gratefully, still pulling himself together a bit after his brain’s impressive stroll down anxiety lane. “Thanks again,” he said, awkwardly taking the two bowls Cobb offered him. They decided to just eat in the kitchen, Din setting Grogu on the counter to try and get him to eat the soup. He was hesitant at first, but Din coerced him into eating at least some of it with the promise of cartoons. (Cobb, don’t look at him like that. He’s not a pushover, he needs to get the kid to eat.)

Then they dumped their dishes in the sink, (what? Din would do them later, he would) and Din pulled out his phone to deliver on his promise to Grogu.

“Thanks for all the help today,” he said to Cobb, who had turned to play with Grogu, apparently trying to teach him some sort of hand clapping game. Grogu wasn’t really participating. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” he added with a smile. He wanted the words to come out as a joke, but somewhere from his brain to his mouth the humor was lost in translation, and he was left with nothing but sincerity.

Cobb paused his play to look up at him with a small smile. “‘Course, I wasn’t just going to let you flounder up here all by yourself, now was I?”

“Of course not…” Din agreed softly. Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t want to keep you any longer though. We’re just going to watch some kid’s show anyway.”

Cobb shrugged. “Oh I don’t mind in the slightest,” he assured Din. “In fact, I’m in no rush if you don’t mind my staying around.”

And no, Din certainly did not mind, not at all, and he quickly told Cobb as much.

And that’s how the three of them ended up on Din’s oppressively floral couch, with Grogu on Din’s lap and Cobb right by his side. An episode of Yo Gabba Gabba played in front of them, and Din and Cobb quietly talked over it, trying not to interrupt too much while Grogu watched the small screen in his hands in fascination.

And that’s also how the three of them ended up asleep on Din’s oppressively floral couch, Din clutching Grogu on his lap while he leaned against Cobb, who had one of his arms over Din’s shoulders, his head resting on top of Din’s own. An episode of Yo Gabba Gabba auto played on the phone that had dropped on the floor in front of them, but not one of them could’ve cared less if they tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat or hit me up on insta @emeryductie  
> Comments give me a disproportionate amount of serotonin, thank you to all the people that leave them.  
> Also if you have more ideas for shenanigans in this universe I'm all ears

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat or hit me up on insta @emeryductie  
> Also if you have more ideas for shenanigans in this universe I'm all ears


End file.
